Invasion of the Worst
by Jessie Wings
Summary: Two owners and five pets wake up, and a sequence of bad things happen. But why is everything so odd? Why can't Jess remember when she was kidnapped by pirates? Why can't Saint remember who he is? And why is detention so much crueller?
1. Chapter 1

_The short, brunette girl smiled excitedly as a gaggle of Neopets and a Chinese American girl came tumbling through a large gateway._

_"You came!" she cheered excitedly. "Now – untie me!"_

_Neither the Chinese American girl nor any of the Neopets seemed keen to untie the girl._

_"What... what are you waiting for?" the girl asked despondently. "I've had an itchy nose for hours!"_

_A loud, booming snicker started reverberating around the room. The girl tried to turn her head to look, but it was held firmly in place._

_"You are all trespassers," sounded the booming voice._

_A Brown Uni felt she should make her voice heard. "This is my tunnel," she informed the booming voice with an American accent. "I can't trespass in my own tunnel."_

_"This is my tunnel now," the voice remarked icily. "And just for that rude comment, you can go first!"_

_The brunette girl watched a laser beam soar over her head and hit the Brown Uni. She collapsed to the floor. The girl gulped – a little too loudly._

_"Afraid, are you? Well, how about facing your fears?"_

* * *

Jess opened her eyes abruptly. She stared at her surroundings for comfort, then closed her eyes and contemplated the smooth bobbing of the boat. When she'd first been taken here, she'd felt quite sick, but she'd soon gotten used to it. 

Jess briefly wondered what the time was. Any later than six-thirty or so and she was bound to be dragged outside and whacked around a bit. Inwardly, she cursed her predicament. She dragged herself out of bed in order to dress and get ready for her undoubtedly awful day. With pirates, the day always was.

She stepped out off her "room" - which had been converted from a storage cupboard, naturally enough – and winced as the sun hit her eyes. It was yet another hot summer day, all right. Jess longed for the cooler days of spring and early autumn, but there was work to be done. She headed straight to the kitchen and cooked up some sloppy porridge for those pirate fiends.

It wasn't fair, really, that assorted animals should be capable of abducting human girls, but there you are.

* * *

Many kilometres away, greatly stressed school student Zoey rocketed out of her sleep, having had the same dream. All thoughts of it were soon rushed out of the Chinese girl's mind thanks to a 50cm high pile of paper next to the girl's bed.

"Science assignment..." the girl's eyes widened in horror as she listed all the things she had to do. "English essay! _Two_ English essays! Math homework! French tasks!" A brief glance at the clock. "All due in less than four hours!"

Zoey lunged for the stack of paper next to her bed, causing countless papers to go flying.

"Magic exam," Zoey muttered, gathering her papers up off the floor. "History presentation. Physical analysis." Papers gathered, Zoey sat on the floor and leant against the wall. "Yet another typical Sunday."

* * *

aussiejewel Smith, in stark contrast to the two before her who awoke with her dream, had no real reason to bother staying awake – and indeed, she didn't try to, immediately rolling over and closing her eyes.

aussiejewel gave the appearance of having been pretty once, but the time spent locked up in this cylindrical, dark cell had long driven that beauty out of her, leaving only the impression. Funnily enough, aussiejewel didn't remember how much time she'd spent cooped up in the health & safety hellhole, though without any means of tracking time such as a calendar, a clock or even a stopwatch it was only to be expected. The only, heavily grilled, window would have helped aussiejewel keep track of the seasons, if she'd had the energy to climb onto the table to peep through it every once in a while. But she didn't.

aussiejewel's attempt at sleeping – or at least at not being awake – was rudely interrupted by the sound of a flap at the door flapping. It was her meal. Which meal it was, aussiejewel didn't know. All of them were rather the same: slushy porridge and occasionally a bit of toast.

aussiejewel ignored the bowl of slushy porridge and nestled further into her less than comfortable bed. She was, after all, on a diet.

* * *

"Make it go away! Make it go away!"

The Mutant Techo's shrieks were not, as you might have assumed, from the dream, but rather from the perfectly pink room he had woken up into.

And they were not alleviated by a beautiful Air Faerie almost _breezing_ into the room, holding a plate of delicate china, with toast on it, in her pale white hand.

"Do not be frightened," the Faerie intoned. "I am Canda. This is Faerie Toast. It will make you feel better."

The Mutant Techo glared at Canda. "I don't want toast," he snapped irritably.

"Would you prefer pancakes?" Canda enquired sweetly.

"I would rather," the Techo announced stiffly, "find out where I am and how I got here."

"What about soup?" Canda persisted. "The Soup Faerie makes the best soup in the whole..."

"I would rather," the Techo repeated, his voice taking on a distinctly icier tone, "find out where I am and how I got here." There was a brief pause. "And who I am would be helpful, as well."

Canda sighed. "I cannot tell you who you are or how you got here," she stated apologetically, "but I can tell you where you are. Faerie City."

"Most helpful," the disgruntled Mutant Techo grumbled.

"Are you sure you don't even want a bubble?" Canda asked politely.

The Techo sighed and relented. "I suppose. Lime, please."

* * *

Tigger's head jerked off his book in alarm. Tigger woke up and stared at the unbelievably strict old Lenny Librarian who had confiscated his makeshift pillow.

"No sleeping while on the job!" she snapped at the confused Kougra.

Tigger blinked. "Sorry, ma'am," he muttered automatically. "I'll put that book away now – what is it, _The Secret of Treasure Island_..." Tigger tried to grab the book from the librarian's hands, but she was deceptively strong.

"Now, now, now," she said warningly, "I'm going to have to submit a complaint."

Tigger was gobsmacked. "I only fell asleep," he muttered quietly. "It's not like I stole anything... or damaged anything... or tried to escape..."

"I have no choice," the librarian informed him.

"I'll have action taken against me!"

"That's what you risked by falling asleep in the first place," the librarian stated matter-of-factly. "Wait here. The Controller will be here soon."

Tigger allowed his head to fall onto the table, followed by the rest of his body, as the Lenny Librarian strolled away. He was _sunk_.

* * *

A Brown Uni, Alexa, blinked several times and paused with her chipping of the smooth rock face, ostensibly hunting for Motes. Why anyone would _hunt_ for _non-tangible_ motes the Uni had no idea, but there you are.

Unfortunately, a supervisor noticed the Uni's pause.

"You there!" the pompous Yellow Eyrie exclaimed. "Get back to work!"

She blinked another few times and obliged, ignoring the stares of her fellow workers. She considered what had just happened.

She certainly hadn't fallen asleep – not in the middle of work! - and yet a vision had come to her, exactly like a dream. She went over the events over her dream, but found she couldn't remember anything earlier than her barging in to save this girl, when she had been halted by a shadow with a laser gun.

She was sure there was more.

She would have to wait for time to tell her.

* * *

Blanche had been daydreaming. Everyone else had been thoroughly entertained with drawing a rainbow with the colours in completely the wrong order (blue, brown, red, green, black, pink and purple in case some stupid person was interested), but that easily bored Blanche – who, after all, disagreed with everything in class. Terror Mountain was _not_ near Krawk Island! Waset Village was _not_ the capital of the Lost Desert! Maraqua was _not_ the name of Neopia's moon, Kreludor was _not_ a throwback to the jurassic era and Tyrannia was _not_ another name for Tigersquash Corn Dogs!

Anyway, after Blanche was brought back to Earth from her daydream, Blanche suddenly realised what she had been daydreaming about.

She couldn't tell anyone, of course – they wouldn't believe her, and she was convinced that most of them had no ability of thought.

So Blanche merely went over her daydream again and again, as she was called upon to draw several other rainbows, all after each other.

Blanche couldn't wait for nap time. As a skilled lucid dreamer, Blanche knew how she could be sure of her daydream – relive it, almost.

She would dream it.


	2. Chapter 2

Jess stared at the slushy porridge she had just cooked for those irritating pirates. It sort of looked done – and marginally better than her previous effort, if she allowed herself to think so. She smiled and removed the metal pot from the fire. She then strolled over to a drawer and opened it. Inside the rusty metal drawer, there were several red apples. Jess snatched an apple as if she feared being caught, and instead of chopping it up and adding it to the slushy mess, bit it. She wasn't, after all, going to _eat_ the disgusting mess she'd cooked. That was for the pirates, who didn't know any better. Jess had been a barmaid, and even food at _pubs_ are much tastier than slushy porridge. 

And if she hadn't been a barmaid – if Krawk Island had had much else in the way of employment – she wouldn't have been abducted by those pirates. Oh, how long ago that seemed. But in reality, it could only have been -

Now, that was puzzling. How long _had_ it been? Not more than a year, Jess thought – she hadn't celebrated a birthday on the ship. But on a ship without calendars, how could she tell?

Jess brushed these thoughts out of her mind and finished her apple, throwing the core overboard into the sea. Not that that was good, but the pirates would notice an apple core in the bin, eternally drunk or not.

"Yo, pirates!" Jess called into the rooms below deck, where all the pirates slept. "Breakfast's ready!"

* * *

"Now, I'm very disappointed with you, Mr. Smith." The voice came from a stern, official-looking Yellow Eyrie, who was glowering at the Baby Kougra as if there were no tomorrow. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Tigger mumbled pitfully. "I didn't _mean_ to fall asleep... in fact, I don't even _remember_..."

"_Silence!_" barked the Eyrie. Tigger shut up immediately. "You had four months more work to go here, yes?"

Tigger stared. "I... uh, think..."

"Let's add two years to that, shall we?"

Tigger was horrified. "Two years... _for a nap?_"

The Eyrie smiled grimly. "Those who think my punishments are harsh are those who break them," he announced. "I'll see you in twenty-eight months, Mr. Smith."

Tigger stared in frustration at the floor. _Twenty-eight months._

He hadn't even remembered falling asleep.

* * *

"Sister," an imperial-looking Light Faerie almost breathed the word. "What do you know of the stranger?"

Canda, elegant as always yet somewhat overshadowed by the grand Light Faerie, was the only one in the room to reply. "I know nothing," she replied. "He does not tell me."

The Light Faerie stared shrewdly at Canda. "Use your telepathic abilities," she ordered.

"I did, Sister," the Air Faerie told her superior. "He does not know."

"There is no place in society for one who knows nothing," the Light Faerie decided loudly. "Keep him alive for twenty-four hours. If he does not remember in that time, he must die."

Canda bowed. "Yes, Sister."

* * *

Blanche glared at the wall. She was at home now, in her bedroom: the wall was blue and not covered by posters.

"There is something terribly wrong about this place," she informed it icily. "Do you know what it is, wall?" she sighed as the wall remained relentlessly silent. "I don't."

She stood up and paced slowly, her soft silver paws cushioned by the fuzzy blue carpet.

"It must be something very obvious," she sighed. "What am I overlooking?"

"Honey?" a voice echoed up the stairs. A voice Blanche recognised immediately as her owner's... but it couldn't be, could it? "Honey? Talking to yourself is..."

"I know, I know," Blanche called back.

"Have you done your homework?"

Blanche glanced at her homework sheet: to draw a rainbow, the colours ordered blue, brown, red, green, black, pink and purple.

"Yes, mum," Blanche shouted back.

She hadn't, obviously, but Ms Bottamus wouldn't have minded if she'd stolen someone else's schoolwork, let alone reused her own.

* * *

"Zoey Li! Where is your interdimensional physics project?"

Zoey groaned. "I'm sorry, Miss Thuman," she apologised. "I didn't do it."

"_Zoey!_" the old Pteri complained. "It's not _that much_ to ask, is it, a twenty-thousand word essay on what you learned in Interdimensional Physics class in the last fortnight?"

Well, yes, Zoey thought, but she wouldn't say that to a teacher.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Thuman," she apologised, "but in between two English essays, a History presentation, French tasks... um, well, of course I couldn't do it!"

"Everyone else managed perfectly," said Miss Thuman, gesturing at the class. "I'm terribly afraid, Zoey, that I'm going to have to assign you a week of after-school detentions."

Zoey's classmates buzzed with excitement. Tears welled into her eyes. "Not... not _detention_, please, Miss Thuman..."

"And for that cheek, eight days," Miss Thuman said. "You can't talk me out of giving you what you deserve I'm afraid."

_What she deserved!_

Zoey might have deserved many things – being shouted at, for one, a phone call to her parents... yard duty... but detention – _detention!_ Zoey Li did not deserve detention. Zoey Li also happened to receive a lot of detentions, thanks to homework that never went into her planner, and yet she remembered it when being asked where it was.

And Zoey Li was a very thorough writer of homework.

* * *

aussiejewel finally gave into hunger and slowly ate the disgusting slushy mess left for her consumption. She didn't bother to voice her disgust. The days of personal opinion were long gone. Survival was all that mattered. Every bit of her, every trace that had made up aussiejewel, had been beaten out of her years ago. Now she was just a hollow shell, resisting food as long as she could manage, eating as little of the disgusting mess as she could...

She supposed that _was_ her last trace of identity. Her sleek brown fur, over a nice round body, had all but dissipated. She was gaunt, skeletal, weak. Constantly ill. She didn't even bother to scream at the rats or the cockroaches who shared her living space any more. It just wasn't worth it. They weren't scared of her. No guard would come in and help her plight. She was worthless – worse than the rats and cockroaches.

They at least weren't deathly.

* * *

Alexa relaxed back onto her bed, her strained muscles ruthlessly punishing her for overworking them. But it wasn't her fault – she _had_ to work, or else she'd be punished. And everyone knew punishment was terrible! Worse than overworked muscles. Much worse.

Alexa would have shuddered at the thought, but if she'd done that her muscles would have troubled her even more. If only she could remember how she got into the whole mess, anyway...

* * *

Blanche lay uncomfortably in her bed that night. She couldn't be sure of anything, she decided. She wasn't even certain of her own existence any more.

* * *

_"This is taking so long," complained an American Chinese girl, yawning. "When's the next flight to Meridell, Jess?"_

_"Two hours, fourteen minutes," a brunette, Caucasian reported grimly. "Oh, thirteen."_

_"Isn't there any other way?" the American one asked despondently._

_"I might know a way," a Brown Uni exclaimed, her face brimming with recognition. "Follow me!" she exclaimed._

_The others followed her all the way to a cave._

_"I dug it out ages ago," the Uni said proudly. "It took me almost the whole month."_

_"Good girl," smiled the American girl. "Well, come on, everyone! There's adventure on the other end!"

* * *

_

Blanche awoke suddenly.

Adventure on the other end indeed.

It was then she noticed that she wasn't in her bedroom at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Zoey had slumped over what had become her usual chair in the headmistress's office. The Kyrii headmistress was meticulously – and yet erroneously! - counting the eight detention slips Miss Thuman had told Zoey to deliver.

"_Eleven_ detentions, Zoey?" the headmistress sighed. "Must you _always_ get into trouble?"

"But Mrs Niara!" Zoey protested. "I didn't get eleven detentions! I got _eight!_"

"I counted eleven," Mrs Niara said sharply. "You may count them yourself if you feel my years as a Maths teacher were wasted."

Zoey groaned, but obliged. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight... um, nine, ten..." she blinked. "There _are_ eleven," she stated. "But there were only eight when I was walking down the corridor!"

Mrs Niara stared at Zoey. "Well, there are eleven now, aren't there, Zoey?" she asked contemptuously.

"Yes, miss..." Zoey sighed dejectedly. "So now I have to go to eleven detentions, huh?"

Mrs Niara nodded. "So, Zoey... we can start today or tomorrow. Do you have any detentions already lined up this afternoon?"

"No," Zoey answered glumly.

Mrs Niara smiled. "Then we'll start them this afternoon, Zoey – five o'clock? How's that?"

"I have four-dimensional trigonometry at five o'clock," Zoey protested. "Mr Hainley'd go crazy if I skipped four-dimensional trigonometry for a detention... again..."

"Ah. Well, how's six o'clock, then?"

Zoey sighed. "Fine. I suppose." Well, added her thoughts, it was before detention got added to it.

"Then we'll have you in the detention all at six o'clock, Zoey. _Sharp._"

"Yes, Mrs Niara."

Zoey then heaved herself off the black chair, grabbed her schoolbag, and headed off to low-gravity physical endurance class.

* * *

Tigger idly stared at the books he'd been assigned to shelve. He placed _The History of the Neopian Economy, volume 1: the Basics_ onto the shelf, moved on to _The History of the Neopian Economy, volume 2: History of the Neopoint_, struggled as he shifted the incredibly heavy _The History of the Neopian Economy, volume 3: History of the Dubloon, its Exchange Rate, and why Krawk Islanders Believe it is Superior to the Neopoint_, and then shelved the other ninety-two volumes into the three shelves they took up. There was only one other book on the trolley now, an odd scientific book named _Realistic Simulation Developing_. Looking cautiously both ways for that narky librarian, he opened the book roughly in the middle, quickly flicked half the pages to get to the start of the book, and read.

* * *

Jess sat on a stool in the corner, watching the pirates eating their slushy messy porridge, and spilling it everywhere. She was incredibly tempted to ask if they'd had a little too much to drink the night before, but the slap she'd get afterwards would make asking the question a trifle stupid, and definitely not worth it.

"Oi! You... servant girl!"

Jess looked up, staring at the angry-looking Eyrie. "Mm?" she asked. "Oh great and powerful Eyriebeard, what pressures you to speak to a humble serving girl?" she added sarcastically. As per usual, none of the pirates got it. The Eyrie, in fact, looked as though his ego had been thoroughly boosted by Jess's sarcastic comment.

"What do you call this muck, eh?"

Jess smiled. "Oh, I call it the disgusting mess you people make me cook every morning. You, on the other hand, call it breakfast?"

"Oh." Eyriebeard stared at his breakfast, and loaded some onto his wing. He then hurled it at his neighbour, Skeithbeard, who contrary to his name did not have a beard.

Skeithbeard was furious. "Ye breakfast-hurling idiot!" he shouted. "Cannae thee 'preciate good food?"

Eyriebeard snorted. "This isn't food!" he cried. "It's liquid with lumps of wheat thrown in!"

Skeithbeard, in retaliation, threw some porridge at Eyriebeard. Then, of course, the Captain strode in.

"You imbeciles!" he cried. "Food is sparse on long sea journeys... you're well aware of that."

Both Eyriebeard and Skeithbeard nodded – very, very quickly.

"So _why_, pray tell, are you flinging food about it?"

Eyriebeard gulped. "It's yucky," he complained. "She's not a very good cook."

Jess stared at the Captain, who in return glared at her. "If we had more porridge I could make it better," she protested.

"I hear you complaining!" the Captain shouted. "_No one_ complains on my ship!"

"Uhh... she did," Techobeard piped up, to find himself the victim of another of the Captain's famous withering stares.

"I hired you to be a good servant!" he shouted.

"Oh, that's what you call it!" Jess laughed idiotically. "I thought it was called slave labour – or, at least, that's what my dictionary said. Whether dictionaries are right or not is another matter entirely -"

"Insubordination!" the Captain declared.

"I'm a slave, dumbo. Do you think I'm going to be all nice and kind and sweet and have amnesia in all issues pertaining to slavery?"

"Of course not," the Captain snapped. "I expect you to know what will keep you alive."

Jess pulled a funny face that involved her nose wrinkling and one side of her mouth going up.

"Anyway," the still fuming Captain said, "we're going to be landing on land today."

"Wow..." breathed the crew.

"I wasn't aware you could land on the ocean," Jess said glibly.

The Captain glared at Jess furiously. "All right – to the cellar!"

* * *

The Mutant Techo knew everything. Faeries, he decided, for all their amusing traits and blatant Superiority Syndome, are absolute rubbish at conversing top-secret things _secretly_. I mean, they'd basically _shouted out_ that they were going to kill him, blah blah blah...

But he _still_ didn't quite know who he was. He remembered his family – down to that annoying airheaded Brown Uni – but he couldn't pin any names to them.

Something, he decided, was blatantly wrong. No memory in the world could remember _everything_ perfectly except names. He even remembered that preteen brunette girl calling him and his siblings to dinner, but his memory had conveniently blanked out all the names. His memory literally played: "hey, you guys! Dinner's ready... Hello? ...? Dinner's on the TABLE, YOU KNOW!"

But faulty memories could be dealt with later. First, he'd have to make something up, just to head off a completely undeserved death penalty.

Canda suddenly breezed into the room, all smiles and daintiness. "Had a nice sleep?" she enquired, showing off her perfectly aligned, brilliant white teeth.

"Um... yes," the Techo answered.

Canda nodded, and made a Lime Faerie Bubble appear out of thin air. "For you," she smiled. The Techo accepted the bubble, but didn't eat it. Just because Canda's smile was so large it was a weapon of mass blindness did _not mean_ the bubble wasn't poisoned. Or drugged. Or something.

"Do you remember anything about your identity yet?" Canda asked sweetly.

"We-ell..." the Techo decided to start with the truth, and _then_ make things up. "I remember... my family. I've got a human mum, see, and she's kind of mental and overly cheerful and too glib for her own good and she likes scarves and tea and running around aimlessly and... um, run-on sentences." Canda's eyebrow was raised, but at least he hadn't killed him yet. "Then there's my brother. He's a Baby Kougra... and very playful... and active... and not very smart," he surmised. "Then I have two sisters. There's a smart Silver Lupe, and a Brown Uni who is _the vainest thing_ in all Neopia, barring Vira of course."

"What about their names?" Canda pressed, her voice still as sickly sweet as undiluted sugar.

"Oh, yes." The Techo forced a laugh. "Mum's is... err, Stacey... and... my brother's is Jake... and my nice sister's is Lucy... and, um, my airheaded sister's name is... Rebecca."

Canda coughed slightly. "And what of _your_ name, Techo? What do I call you?"

"John," the Techo answered without hesitation.

"Ah," Canda nodded. "Very nice name, I suppose."

"Thanks," the Techo answered, inwardly suspecting his ploy hadn't quite worked out.

Well, Faerieland wasn't made of clouds for nothing.

* * *

It was dark. Zoey walked along the street of Neopia Central dejectedly, trying to both hug herself for warmth and _not_ hug herself for comfort. It was raining, of course. It always rains at the most inappropriate times – just as it always rains at any random time there happens to be heavy rainclouds about.

Zoey's thin shawl were just not enough protection against the cold or the rain, but her jacket would have hurt beyond belief – they would have hurt so much it _killed_, to exaggerate mildly.

Zoey was on her way home after detention. How terrible detention was. She dared herself to roll up her sleeve and just stare at her lower arm. It was a dare she took up. Her arm was red and bruised and had welts in it – _all at the same time_. Zoey smiled miserably at the one bruise she'd procured on her wrist, the one she'd gotten for slapping the detention master.

Her detention had also been extended by half an hour – it was now seven-thirty.

Zoey looked up at she heard a vehicle trundling down the highway. She would have caught a bus home, but after seven-thirty the only buses in service were long distance buses – Neopia Central to Brightvale, Sakhmet City to the Haunted Woods, that kind of thing. And besides which, she'd left her purse at school, in her schoolbag, because she had no pockets and it would have _really_ killed to wear a school bag on the two-hour walk home.

The vehicle trundling down the highway _was_ a long-distance bus, and with a sort of surprise Zoey noticed that she was near the Neopia Central stop for the Neopia Central-Meridell bus route.

Her pulse quickened. Almost on a whim, she ran to the bus stop, ignoring the terrible agony her leg was giving her, and she stuck her arm out. The bus slowed and stopped for her.

She was going to Meridell.

* * *

Alexa was once more working at that absolutely irritating wall, with its non-tangible motes and blah-blah this and blah-blah that...

Oh dear, she was working herself up. She could tell by the fact that her aim was becoming erratic, and her hammer had just _missed_ the wall and instead hit her own hoof. Alexa bit her tongue to stop her crying out.

"You there, Uni – what's the pause for?"

Alexa turned to see an ugly robot that had been designed for someone with a love of teal, carrot-red, and cylinders.

"I just hit my hoof with my hammer," she snapped.

"How terrible for you," the android drawled, its voice positively dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "Back to work, Uni."

Alexa turned around in fury, hammering away with increased vigour at the wall. "How terrible for you," she sneered, once sure the android was out of hearing range. "Back to work, Uni... EWWW!"

She jumped back from the wall in disgust as a stinky brown substance oozed over her hoof.

"EWW!" she repeated. "That's a – _a Dung Mote!_"

The android came back. "You have found a mote?" it demanded coldly, asking the question in such a way that it barely registered as a question.

"Yes," Alexa replied. "And look at my hoof, you... _just look at it!_ I need a _bath_ now... no, a shower..."

The android snorted with disdain, despite its obvious roboticness, and handed Alexa a container. "Shovel your mote into this," it ordered. "Place it behind you, and continue work."

"With what?" Alexa asked. "My hammer?"

"No, Uni," the android bleated. "With your _hoof_."

Alexa stared at the wall, which was now oozing disgusting-smelling brown slime, and got her hammer out and absolutely _pumelled_ the area. The mote was apparently obliterated, landing all over people within a five-metre radius of Alexa.

"_UNI!_" the android shouted angrily. "What did you do?"

Alexa looked tearfully down at her dung-splattered self. "I smashed the mote," Alexa confessed.

"You have wasted profit!" the android announced.

"I didn't even _have_ any profit... how could I _waste_ it?"

"I shall take you to the boss," the android announced. "Follow me, Uni – you have quite a bit of explaining to do."

Alexa gulped and nodded. Then she followed.

* * *

aussiejewel groaned as she heard another bowl of slushy mess pushed through the cat-flap in the door. If it was lunchtime, like it would be if she hadn't slept through any meals, she'd be having sloppy casserole. At dinner time, she'd probably have more sloppy casserole – or the variant, an absolutely identical-looking curry, the hottest sort no one could stand and some prankster probably invented one day when he was bored. Or maybe he had the foresight to know that inventing the curry would make aussiejewel mad, which would give her jailers a laugh.

"Meurgh," aussiejewel muttered indistinctly, crawling out of her totally unhygienic bed. She ended up rolling off it onto the floor, after which she sat up with a massive headache.

She dragged herself along to her food, and wrinkled her nose in disgust as the cheesy, browny, liquidy "meal" that assaulted her optic nerves.

She picked a spoon up and ate a mouthful. It was ice cold – or rather, nearly ice cold, since ice by definition is a solid, and this mucky excuse of a sauce was definitely not a solid. In fact, it had the consistency of the skin milk gets when it's been hot, and then cooled down without being stirred or shifted.

After a few mouthfuls, aussiejewel's stomach was beginning to protest, so aussiejewel gave up with her food, and retreated back to her filthy bed. The back of her mouth had a terrible taste in it, one aussiejewel hoped she could sleep off.

After all, she slept everything off.

* * *

"Sister," the imperial Light Faerie whispered loudly, in her trademark ethereal, deathly voice. "How does the Techo fare?"

"He remembers some things," Canda replied, stepping a step closer towards her superior. "However, he still does not remember his name. He has lied to me."

"He has identified himself John," the Light Faerie nodded wisely.

"Indeed, Sister," Canda breathed her reply as though she were a much wiser Air Faerie than she really was. Then she added cautiously, "is lying not worse than stupidity?"

"No," the Light Faerie stated, suddenly jarring with the ethereal tones she had been using previously. "Lying is a far more serious crime than stupidity, Sister."

"Then it is possible that we must take care of him," Canda suggested slyly.

"It is entirely possible," the Light Faerie said, continuing to speak in a quite normal tone, or at least compared to her ethereal ones. "It is so entirely possible, Sister, that it is definite. It is exactly what we will do."

Canda smiled vaguely and curtsied. "As you wish, Sister," she murmured, then proceeding to stroll lazily down the palace corridors, often turning in such odd ways that she ended up walking 360°. She did eventually get to the Techo's room, however, and briefly pausing to collect a wonderfully sweet smile on her face, turned the door handle and walked inside.

Her smile rapidly dissipated, and was even more rapidly replaced by a terrible scowl. The Techo was not there, and the window was wide open. The room was filled with Faerieland's characteristic sweet, mild breeze, indicating that the window had been open at least quite a few minutes.

* * *

Tigger had been standing on his now empty trolley, trying to prise a window near the ceiling of the library open. It'd been remarkably lucky that the librarian hadn't come for him yet, although several customers had given him funny looks.

"What're you doing?" a Baby Aisha had asked curiously. "Why do you have a crowbar?"

"I'm escaping," he informed the Baby Aisha gently.

"Why don't you use the door?" the Aisha had asked, wide-eyed.

He had then had to tell her that there were guards either side of that door on both sides of the wall, and that he didn't have a chance of getting through alive.

And then he remembered that it didn't matter anyway, and so he dived off the trolley and ran right through the door, ignoring the bewildered stares of the inside guards. The outside guards weren't so unprepared though, and promptly shot him down.

* * *

Blanche heard the sudden increase in speed of someone's breathing. In the pitch blackness, she couldn't tell who it was.

"Who's that?" she asked reasonably, frightened all the while.

She heard a familiar Kougra growl.

"Tigger!" Blanche exclaimed excitedly. "Tigger, I - don't know where we are," she admitted lamely. "I've been incapacitated, I think, and... it's so..."

"Whussis'n meh head?" Tigger asked slurrily, trying to sit up. "Who you..."

"Tigger... I'm... Blanche..."

Tigger, unbeknownst to Blanche, blinked. His dazed head cleared too. "Blanche!" he exclaimed excitedly. "How do you get this stupid helmet off, it's driving me insane..."

Blanche laughed. "There's a switch on the left side," she informed her brother. "It'll come off once you've flicked that."

"Oh," Tigger replied. "Yay... that got it." He then paused. "Where are we?" he asked.

"I've no idea," Blanche assured Tigger. "It's not like I can tell through vision, either."

"Good point," Tigger said. "How did we get here, then?"

"Do you remember the tunnels?" Blanche asked, sighing.

"Tunnels?" Tigger frowned. "What tunnels?"

"You don't remember the tunnels."

"I just told you, no. What tunnels?"

Blanche sighed again. "I'll have to tell you, won't I?"


	4. Chapter 4

"You do remember, of course, that we were going to go to Meridell today?" Blanche asked casually, all her excitement having dissipated a while ago. Unseen by Blanche, of course, Tigger frowned.

"I think so," he replied, completely, totally and utterly confused anyway. "Zoey and I were fighting about it. Maybe. Well, I think."

"You're right," Blanche affirmed, laughing. "You and Zoey _were_ fighting. You wanted to go to Krawk Island instead, you know."

"I _do_ know," Tigger poked his tongue out, even though Blanche never knew because of the total darkness.

"Good," Blanche responded, chuckling slightly. "So Zoey won the argument, of course, but the plane to Meridell wasn't going to arrive for hours yet, so Alexa showed us a shortcut of hers."

"Oh yeah!" Tigger exclaimed. "I remember that bit. That lousy plane took _forever_, and it _still_ never showed up."

Blanche laughed again. "Uh, yeah – that's why we didn't wait for it and took the shortcut instead, Tig."

* * *

"Land ho!" cried a random pirate. "We're at a suitable range to come ashore now, Cap'n."

"Of course," the Captain stated. "Get all men off the ship, and get plenty of those crates."

"Aye aye, sir," the random pirate replied – he sounded a little like Shoyrubeard, or maybe Cybunnybeard – Jess couldn't tell.

Jess didn't have any idea where the ship was. She was below deck, an a dark, grimy, stinky-smelling room, hands handcuffed behind her, so she was stuck around a convenient pole. A trapdoor above her opened, and the sunlight made her wince. Flotsambeard – ah, so that's who the voice had belonged to! - waddled down the stairs, collected two crates, and somehow shifted them upstairs again.

"Hello?" she asked him, in as rude and attention-demanded a tone as she could summon. "I've been stuck down here since breakfast time. Aren't you going to let me go back above deck?"

Flotsambeard didn't even really deign to reply, unless you happen to think that him shaking his head was replying, of course.

Jess sighed as Flotsambeard closed the trapdoor, rather much louder than she thought was really necessary. Her leg was terribly cramped. Well, she'd been sitting down for hours – of _course_ it was cramped! She hoped she could find some pain killers upstairs – assuming, of course, that she was let upstairs.

After a few minutes of careful listening, Jess managed to discern that the crew were going to pillage some poor town or another. Jess idly hoped it was Geraptiku, to give those stupid pirates their comeuppance. The Gerapikans might have been dead skeletons and spirits, but they sure were freaky as well.

Jess frowned suddenly. What on Earth – or, rather, Neopia – was Geraptiku? It _sounded_ freaky, sure – like a newly-discovered town in the Haunted Woods, or maybe an ancient tropical civilisation, on Mystery Island, or Krawk Island perhaps. Or maybe Geraptiku was a completely different planet altogether – why couldn't she remember? Or, maybe the question was why _did_ she remember in the first place?

_Maybe,_ her imagination said, _someone's been playing around with your timeline._

Jess then laughed at her imagination. Aloud. Silly thing it was, too.

The trapdoor opened sharply, with a loud bang as it hit the wooden decking. "What are you laughing about?" snapped the dark, long-haired Captain. "You've no right to laugh! You are a _prisoner_."

Jess coughed, and ceased to laugh abruptly. "I was just reminiscing," she lied. "After all, it's not like there's much _else_ -"

The trapdoor closed just as loudly, with a perfectly sharp _thwap_. Well, maybe the Captain was in a bad mood. No, scratch that – maybe he was in a worse mood than usual. He was, after all, _always_ in a permanently bad mood.

* * *

"Alexa's shortcut was a tunnel, remember," Blanche explained, still enshrouded by the perfect pitch blackness of the room. "It was one she'd dug in that month where Zoey 'quit' Neopia."

"Oh... I remember that month," Tigger said idly. "Mum was sort of... kind of _bored_ in that month, wasn't she Blanche?"

"Um, duh, Tigger," Blanche rolled her eyes, and something in her voice made Tigger able to tell despite the fact he definitely couldn't see her eyes. "But anyway, we all entered the tunnel, and of course, something went wrong only a few minutes in."

"Something _always_ goes wrong only a few minutes in," Tigger decided, remembering that football game they – his siblings, along with Alexa – had played once.

"Anyway," Blanche continued, interrupting Tigger's train of thought, "we were just walking along and all of a sudden, Mum heard a noise, do you remember?"

"Um..."

"She walked ahead into the darkness, you know, and just _disappeared_. Like that. We ran forward, and she wasn't there at all."

"Of course," Tigger said slowly. "Yeah, I remember that."

* * *

"I'm very disappointed with you, Alexa," Alexa's boss said sternly. He was a lemony green Graarl with a small grey beard, and a large grey moustache, and sported rather stupid-looking hairy grey eyebrows. "We are a serious business, as you should know, and you've just stripped us of money we should rightfully be able to make."

"You just don't get it!" Alexa protested hopelessly. "It was a _Dung Mote_. Look at my hoof – _it's filthy_! Filthy, I tell you! I need a bath, a scrubbing brush, a manicure..."

"You're more than welcome to bathe outside working hours," her boss told her. "I'm very sorry, Miss Li, but we are going to have to prosecute you."

Alexa groaned. "I'm exhausted enough," she protested. "I have a fourteen-hour working day, thanks to you. Did you know there's an illness you can get by repeating the same movements day in, day out? People working in factories often get it, and so do -"

"You are changing the subject," her boss informed Alexa accusingly.

"Sorry, sir."

"You are not even sorry," the Graarl told Alexa acidly. "If there's something I like even worse than robbing me of profit – well, or maybe that's like nearly as little as robbing me of profit – it's employees who lie to me, Miss Li," he informed the Uni savagely. "Do you have an apology to make?"

Alexa coughed. "No sir," she confessed.

"Well, at least that's the truth," the Graarl boss mused before angrily turning on his employee. "Why do you do it, Alexa – what _drives_ you, what motivates you? Do you wake up in the morning and say, 'I think I'll breath the law today'? Tell me, Miss Li, be totally honest!"

Alexa took a step back subconsciously. "Well," she said, thinking about the question. "It might have something to do with the fact that this is _slave labour_."

"Oh, not that again," the boss groaned. "I've had quite enough of employees who make that complaint, you know – I'm thoroughly sick of it!"

"We're not even employees!" Alexa argued fiercely. "We're not paid, and we have to live right next to the caves. We're not allowed more than a mile away from the premises without at least four armed guards, and permission signed in triplicate by you, and all these anonymous stockholders, which rarely _ever_ happens because those stockholders are obviously very pro-slavery..."

"That's enough!" the Graarl shrieked with all the force of a category four cyclone. "Would more pay satisfy you, you little... ahem... anyway, do you want three meals a day? Do you really expect three meals a day?"

"Uh, yes?" Alexa replied. "Isn't that a little obvious, you idiot? According to the Fair and Noble Treatment of Prisoners, category four subsection D, rule 19 amendment iii, prisoners _must_ be given the required amount of -"

"Prisoners?" the Graarl snorted. "You're more than welcome to depart at any time you want, you foolish thing..."

"Well, I would be, wouldn't I, to depart?" Alexa demanded, on a furious roll. "I'd get shot at, you... uh..." Alexa stared at her boss and coughed. "The point being, I have to work here – or die. That's not being a prisoner, you think? What _is_ prisonership, then... do I have to be taken captive in the middle of a war?" she demanded fiercely, striking her boss's desk with her relatively clean hoof.

"That's quite enough!" her boss raged, standing up and roaring at the Uni with all the strength of a category _five_ cyclone. "Out of my office right now, my girl – I'll deal with you later!"

Two androids, different in appearance to the red and green cylindrical beast, came up to Alexa and grabbed both her front hooves, to drag her away.

* * *

"I informed Zoey that I thought an intermittent matter transmitter might be responsible for mum's disappearance," Blanche was telling her brother. "Considering our lack of sunlight, I thought it must have been powered by a rather strong relay network system, which prompted me to consider what they were doing in Alexa's cave."

"Mmhmm," Tigger replied without enthusiasm, wondering why Blanche had suddenly started technobabbling like a maniac. "And then Zoey decided to wait for the... thingy... to turn back on."

"Precisely, Tigger. It was aussiejewel who decided it was a waste of time, and so everyone except Zoey moved on."

"Ah," Tigger nodded. "And we never found Zoey after that, did we?"

"No," Blanche affirmed. "No, it was just us pets after that..."


End file.
